


To be yourself

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Tony Stark, Fluff, Frigga is a Good Mom, Getting Together, International Fanworks Day 2019, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, did i mention the fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 02:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17799065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: When the Asgardian Royal Family is invited to Alfheim to watch a tourney, Anthony finds himself dragged along for the ride. But it’s clear that Loki isn’t really interested in the clash of swords, and Anthony is willing to take a risk if it means he can find a way to see Loki smile.





	To be yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for International Fanworks Day 2019. While it doesn’t quite focus on the characters acting ‘fannish’, the idea is buried in there, I promise. (Also, I know it’s meant to be short but that’s something I’m incapable of. It’s still short for me, at least.)  
>   
> 

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.  
**—Ralph Waldo Emerson**

 

Once every three hundred years, the greatest warriors from every realm flock to the home of the light elves for the largest tourney in all the Nine, clamouring for a good fight and the honour of being titled the strongest of all.

Anthony had always wanted to go, since being able to see the different fighting styles and weapons of the best of the _best_ would be of great help to his work. And, you know. It would also be fun. (So, _so_ fun.) But as a lowly son of a smith, he had been resigned to never attending. After all, he did not have the means of getting to Alfheim himself, and he was not of great enough standing to warrant joining the royal entourage.

Or so he had thought.

So when Prince Loki appeared in Anthony’s workshop – thankfully while Anthony’s father had been out at the tavern – and announced that Anthony would be attending the tourney with him, Anthony’s first response had been to stare in shock.

“What?”

“The tourney,” Loki repeated slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton– though the teasing gleam in his eyes softened that blow a little. “I am sure you have heard of it. Thor has spoken of little else for weeks.”

“Yes, but, why would you invite _me?”_ Anthony asked, still not quite over the surprise.

“Because it will be boring and you are my friend,” Loki said, shrugging his shoulders with the kind of nonchalance Anthony knew was Loki’s usual method of hiding something deeper.

They had been friends for well over two centuries, having stumbled over each other in the bushes that lined the Einherjar’s training square as children. They were both hiding– Loki because he had just been admonished and insulted for his use of magic while sparring, and Anthony because he had wanted to learn from watching. They had bonded almost immediately with jokes and insults and a similar sense of humour, and they had remained close ever since. As they grew older, Loki had invited Anthony to join his sparring sessions with Thor and his friends, claiming that he needed at least one intellectual equal present for the sake of his sanity.

Loki did that a lot actually, using small explanations to hide the way he really felt, and that was why Anthony remained unsurprised when Loki’s expression fell a bit as he gave his response.

Unsurprised, but still ridden with guilt.

“Loki, I can’t,” Anthony said.

“Of course you can,” Loki said in earnest. “You were speaking of it with Thor only last week, wishing that you could attend.”

There was something honest hiding in Loki’s gaze then, and Anthony couldn’t help the way his lips curved into a smile. Loki hadn’t asked merely because he thought it would be boring– he had asked because he knew Anthony wanted to go.

But, the fact still remained that—

“I can’t go with your family. You know Thor only tolerates me for your sake—”

“He does not,” Loki argued. “Thor likes you for your wit and your skill—”

“And the Allfather—”

“Would not even notice. And besides, I have already told mother that you are coming,” Loki said, his nose in the air and his smirk solidly in place. “She is expecting you.”

“I could pretend to fall ill,” Anthony pointed out.

“You could.” Loki tilted his head. “But why? Would you really leave me to suffer through three days of tourney with only _Thor_ for company? Thor, who will spend most of his time with his friends anyway, who will only speak to me to make comments about how a true warrior should fight?”

And Anthony knew _exactly_ what Loki was doing, but he winced nonetheless– because the thinly veiled manipulation didn’t change the fact that it _was_ true. He knew how Loki loathed the trivial discussions surrounding hitting people with heavy objects, and he knew that without a friend, Loki would suffer three days of bone crushing boredom and insults to his own style of fighting that were even less subtle than Loki’s attempts at convincing Anthony to go.

Anthony wanted to stop that from happening like he wanted nothing else, but he was afraid that going as Loki’s guest to such a prestigious event would only bring Loki under more scrutiny for having befriended a commoner.

But then—

“Anthony,” Loki said, his green eyes widening and his lips falling into a pout. “Please.”

And that had been that– the very next day, Anthony found himself astride a royal horse that Loki had convinced him to ride, sitting beside Loki, behind Thor, and _in front of_ Thor’s four closest friends.

The honour made Anthony a little nervous, but Loki kept shooting him sideways glances, as if afraid that he might disappear– and the relief on his face every time he did kept Anthony exactly where he was.

He ducked his head and stayed back when the Allfather and his family were greeted by Frey at the doors to his elven palace, in an attempt to ensure that he would not immediately be linked to Loki. After all, he knew how Loki idolised the magic users of Alfheim, and doubted his friend would want such a first impression.

Frey himself would be competing in the tourney, though not that in which the Aesir had come to participate. While Tyr and the other great warriors of Asgard were clashing swords and swinging axes, Frey and the other practitioners of seiðr would be fighting in a separate arena, showcasing their skills to crown their own champion.

But of course, neither Anthony nor Loki would see any of that– Aesir believed such fights to be either unfair or deceptive, and preferred to stay to only within the confines of the non-magical, martial tourney.

It was the night before the tourney was due to start so Frey held a feast for his guests, out amongst the trees rather than in the confines of the halls. The tables were not arranged in a hierarchy as they might have been in Asgard, but were merely scattered almost haphazardly though the clearing, with food and drink available for people to simply pick up as they wished. It meant that Anthony could linger at Loki’s side without anyone caring, and they enjoyed themselves with simple pranks.

Thor was vehemently declaring his predictions as to whom would win the tourney, his voice growing louder and louder as he consumed more and more ale. It took him a solid hour before he realised that his hair had been turned a captivating shade of turquoise to match the skin tone of his favourite Vanir warrior, and Anthony and Loki laughed hard enough at his delighted crowing that they were forced to clutch at each other’s arms for support.

It was almost worth the lecture Loki received from his father for using such tricks in view of the rulers of the other realms, and despite the pompous dignitaries, perpetual talk of fighting, and the constant _preening,_ the night turned into a fun one. And when the feast was called to an end to ensure the participants were well rested before the morn, Anthony did not miss the sad, wistful glance Loki sent his way as he followed his family back inside, for it seemed a bit out of place.

Anthony would not be staying at the palace of course– he would be outside in the grounds, as part of the larger camp. But he did not mind– Loki had ensured that his tent was placed near to that of the smith that had been brought to care for Asgard’s warriors’ weapons and armour, and Anthony was excited for the chance to meet him.

But that could wait.

He had accepted the invitation to Alfheim with a promise not to leave Loki to deal with things alone, and while he knew that this wasn’t exactly what Loki had meant… The look on Loki’s face as they’d left the feast had worried him. If Loki _was_ upset about something, then Anthony was going to be there to help.

Alfheim’s palace relied more on magic to protect it than Asgard’s did, and guards were far fewer. Accustomed as he was to dodging scores of Einherjar, it was not difficult for Anthony to get inside and through the halls. Finding Loki’s quarters was the more challenging task, but an easily charmed servant who was eager to help Anthony find his friend led him to the right hallway. From there, Anthony was attuned enough to the feel of Loki’s magic that he only had to lay his hands on each door and feel for the familiar tingle of Loki’s wards to know that he had found the right one.

His knock was firm and sure, despite the flutter of nervousness in his breast.

“Come in.”

The door creaked when Anthony pushed it open, but Loki didn’t look up. He was sitting at his window, propped against the frame with one foot resting up on the sill, his head leaning on his knee.

“Hello Anthony,” he greeted without shifting his gaze from the view, his voice soft.

“Loki,” Anthony replied, closing the door behind him and crossing the room to stand beside his friend. His voice was cautious as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Loki said quickly, looking up and turning his head to meet Anthony’s gaze. He offered a smile, but it was a little bit too sharp for Anthony to trust it.

“Don’t give me that.” Anthony pushed gently at Loki’s leg, making him put it on the ground so there was enough space on the window sill for Anthony to perch beside him. Their fingers brushed as Anthony put his hand down to support himself, and Anthony felt something warm crawl up the back of his neck– but neither of them moved away. “Come on, Loki,” he said, leaning over to nudge Loki’s shoulder with his own. “Why’re you so sad?”

Loki averted his gaze, a blush of his own staining his cheeks. “I’m not,” he said.

“And I’m not about to shove you out this window if you don’t drop the act,” Anthony replied. Then, a little quieter, he added– “You know you can tell me anything.”

Loki considered Anthony for a moment, biting on his lower lip. Anthony hated when Loki did that, because it made him want to reach out and touch Loki’s cheek with his hands, then use his thumb to smooth away Loki’s pain. Pushing the improper thought away, Anthony held still and watched as Loki turned his head back to look out of the window, out over the palace grounds. Loki’s quarters did not look over the area where the Aesir were camped, near to the bright and colourful martial tourney arena, decked with banners and flags. Instead, Loki had a perfect view of the other side of the palace, where a smaller arena had been erected with tall trees that were too perfectly shaped to have grown naturally. The banners there were not made of material and rope– they were brightly coloured illusions that danced unhindered, painting a pretty picture across the canvas of the night sky.

“Oh,” Anthony breathed. Really, he should have realised.

“It is a wish, a dream, and nothing more,” Loki said, his voice sad. “I know that nothing will come of it.”

“But you still want it,” Anthony replied, aching with empathy. He knew what it was to want something _that badly_ , but to have it hang just out of reach. So close, but still drenched in painful impossibility.

“More than anything,” Loki sighed.

“Okay,” Anthony said simply. “So let’s do it.”

Loki’s head whipped around far too quickly, his expression slackened with shocked disbelief and his eyes shining with agonised hope.

“What?” he whispered.

Anthony shrugged, a grin slowly working its way across his lips. “Let’s do it, let’s go. You want to go to the magical tourney, so let’s _go._ What’s stopping us?”

“The entirety of Asgard is stopping us,” Loki muttered bitterly, the strange disbelief from earlier giving way to his usual pessimism.

“The entirety of Asgard can _try._ ” Anthony nudged Loki again. “We’re more than capable of outwitting them, and you know it.”

“It… is not proper,” Loki said, the words forced between gritted teeth. He pulled his hand from where it had rested under Anthony’s and raked it through his hair in frustration. “I should be fighting with real weapons—”

“No,” Anthony said. “No, that’s not fair. Loki, you’re an amazing warrior. I’ve seen you take down opponents four times your size with your daggers. And yeah, maybe you couldn’t beat someone like Thor in a hand to hand battle, but when you fight with your seiðr, there’s nothing and no one that can stop you.”

“But it is dishonourable—”

“Says who?” Anthony snapped. “Says the ‘entirety of Asgard’? Well, _I_ say that their opinion doesn’t matter, they’re just jealous and upset that they don’t have half the skill you do.”

Loki ducked his head, and Anthony took that as his cue to keep going.

“Loki, you’re… you’re incredible, okay?” He cleared his throat, hoping that the pure adoration he felt wasn’t shining through every word– but he kept going still, because he knew that Loki needed it. His own comfort was not as important as Loki’s wellbeing. “Anyone who says any different is either a liar or a fool– and I know that you are neither of those things, at least, not when it matters. There’s no point in pretending that you’re something you’re not, not when the real you is so much better than anything they want you to be.”

Loki was staring at Anthony with an odd look in his eye, a kind of yearning mixed with surprise. “You really think that?” he asked.

“Of course,” Anthony promised. “And if you want to go to the magic tourney, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Why?” Loki asked, still clearly shaken– and Anthony was struck by the similarity to when Loki had asked Anthony to join him at the tourney in the first place. “Why would you offer that? I know you have been excited for this opportunity to see different types of weapons, why would you give up that chance?”

“They’ll use weapons in the magical tourney, too, I know Frey loves that enchanted sword of his,” Anthony said with a shrug. “It’s not a big difference, really.”

When Loki still looked about to argue, Anthony reached between them to gently touch Loki’s wrist and said—

“I don’t like to see you unhappy, Loki. You were kind enough to bring me here– let me do this for you.”

And with that, Loki’s lips finally curled up into a proper smile.

—–❉–—

Anthony stayed in Loki’s quarters that night, even though it did not take them long to devise a plan. And in the morning, when Thor hammered on the door demanding to know why Loki was late to breakfast, they were both hiding in the corner of the room, trying to hold in their giggles. Loki had shrouded them from view, their fingers entwined so he could maintain the needed skin contact to keep Anthony just as hidden as himself. But while they could not be seen, a stray laugh would give them away in an instant.

“Brother!” Thor shouted from the hallway. “I am hungry! Mother says we must wait for you, so please will hurry up! If you are much longer, there will not be time to eat before the tourney!”

Loki flicked his fingers so that the door fell open, and Thor clattered straight through it and would have hit the ground face first if he had not managed to catch the edge of the doorframe.

“Loki!” He complained, standing straight and glancing around the room. “There is no need to be—”

Thor cut himself off as he saw the scene Loki had created earlier that morn with a truly impressive show of his seiðr. It appeared as if Loki were still in bed, his blankets a mess and twisted about his legs. His face was pale, his skin shining with sweat, and his limbs were all shuddering dangerously.

Thor’s face blossomed with horror as he backed out of the room straight away, and they heard his voice echoing down the halls well before he would have been in hearing range of the dining hall.

“Mother! Come quickly!”

It did not take long for the door to open again. Frigga stepped through first, her skirts flying about her feet in her hurry, and Anthony felt Loki’s fingers tense a little, no doubt feeling guilt for worrying his mother. Thor followed on her tail, his eyes wide with concern.

“I found him like this,” Thor told her, gesturing to the illusion on the bed. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It appears to be a fever.” Frigga reached out to lay her hand on the illusion’s forehead, and Loki tensed in concentration. Anthony rubbed the back of the hand he held with his thumb, hoping to provide some silent support.

Frigga frowned slightly, and drew back, her gaze lifting to the exact corner where Loki and Anthony were standing. They should have been hidden, she should not be able to see—

But she was looking _right at them_ and they both froze solid, their hands squeezing tightly, thinking that they must be caught—

“He just needs rest,” Frigga said, turning back to Thor. “He will recover in due course.”

Loki slumped against Anthony’s side in relief, and Anthony gently patted his arm with his free hand.

“Will he get well quickly enough to come to the tourney?” Thor asked worriedly.

“I am afraid not. It will be best for him to stay here and rest.”

Thor let out a soft whine, and he leaned down over the bed. “I’m sorry that you’ll miss it, brother,” he said. “But worry not. I shall take note of every fight, and I will recount them to you this evening at dinner. That way, you won’t really miss anything after all!”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Thor,” Frigga said, her concern replaced by fondness. “Now, why don’t you go and tell your father that Loki will not be accompanying us? I shall make sure he is comfortable, and then I shall follow.”

Thor nodded, and then, after one more sad glance toward his brother, he left the room. Frigga waited a few moments until Thor’s heavy footsteps had faded before speaking again.

“Come out now, Loki,” she said. “There is no need to hide.”

Loki accepted that with a simple sigh, and Anthony felt the familiar itch of Loki’s seiðr pass over his skin as Loki dropped the spell.

“Apologies for the trick, mother,” he said, averting his gaze. “I did not mean to cause you worry.”

“Why did you think it was necessary?” she asked.

“We wanted to go to the magic tourney, my queen,” Anthony said quickly, knowing it was bold but wanting to say something before Loki could get in trouble. “It was my idea, I talked Loki into it.”

“No,” Loki said immediately, elbowing Anthony lightly in the side. “I was the one who wanted to go in the first place. Anthony had nothing to do—”

“It was my idea, he’s just being kind,” Anthony snapped, tugging at Loki’s hand to try and get him to shut up. “I swear, I’m sorry for trying to stop him from going to the martial tourney with yourself and—”

“ _No_ ,” Loki argued back, “I didn’t even want to come here in the first place! Mother you _know_ that I—”

“Quiet, both of you,” Frigga interrupted, and Anthony tensed once more, half expecting to be told that he would have to leave, and that he would not be allowed to see Loki again. But the queen’s expression was soft, and her lips had pulled up into a smile. “I believe that you were _both_ involved in this, but you can stop arguing about it. You are not in any trouble.”

Anthony and Loki both exchanged a surprised glance.

“We’re not?” Loki asked disbelievingly.

“No,” Frigga chuckled. “Loki, I know that you were not looking forward to this in the same way as Thor, and I can hardly begrudge you wishing to watch the magical tourney when that is what I did when I was younger.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “It _was?”_

“Of course,” Frigga said with a bright smile. “You forget who it is that has tutored you all these years, Loki.”

“Well, yes,” Loki said, half spluttering, and Anthony once again decided it was his turn to speak up. After all, if he hadn’t got in trouble for arguing with Loki earlier – for acting so _familiar_ – then surely a simple question would be acceptable.

“Does this mean that you’re going to let us go?”

“You’re Anthony Howardson, aren’t you?” Frigga asked him instead of answering outright. “The smith.”

“Yes,” Anthony replied simply.

Frigga considered him curiously for a moment. The feel of Loki shifting beside him – even if the movement was most likely born of nervousness – was enough to bolster his confidence, and Anthony kept his head high.

At least until the queen’s eyes darted down to their clasped hands, and then Anthony’s breath caught. She wasn’t to know that they were only doing so to ensure that Loki’s invisibility spell had worked– although, Loki had dropped that spell minutes earlier, and they had yet to let go. The thought made Anthony’s cheeks warm, and he tried to tug his hand away—

But Loki held on tight, refusing to let go. When Anthony looked over to him in confusion it was to find Loki’s face also painted with a blush, but the spark in his eyes was fierce as he stared his mother down.

He did not utter a word, but his meaning could not be more clear– and Anthony felt his heart begin to race in his chest.

“I will tell your father that you are not to be disturbed,” Frigga said, and when Anthony pulled his gaze from Loki it was to find her watching them with a softness in her expression. “I will ensure that he does not know where you have gone.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice a little thick. He kept his tight grip on Anthony’s hand as she went to leave, and Anthony could hardly believe what had happened.

Surely he had read it wrong? Surely Loki had only meant that they were friends, that yes, he would stick by Anthony even if Frigga disapproved of his status– as a friend, and nothing more. But the way that Loki’s fingers curled around his own had taken on a different meaning– the way that Loki smiled warmly at Anthony sometimes in a way that he never smiled at anyone else– how Loki had blushed the night before and seemed unsure when Anthony had asked him what he was sad about.

Perhaps… perhaps Anthony hadn’t read it wrong at all.  

“Oh, and Loki?” Frigga said, pausing in the doorway.

“Yes, mother?”

“Your skills with illusion are improving. I very nearly could not see through that one. In fact, I believe I would not have, if you had not been distracted.”

Loki’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on the door as it clicked shut behind her. It was a beautiful smile, and despite his still racing heart, Anthony found his lips curling into a smile of his own.

—–❉–—

They kept their hands clasped together as they hurried through the halls, remaining entirely unnoticed by the many people rushing on their way to the tourneys. They passed Thor chatting excitedly with his four friends, and Loki seemed pleased that his brother’s day would not be saddened by Loki’s ‘sickness’. After all, Thor’s excitement for this tourney could only be eclipsed by his excitement for the next, for which he would be old enough to compete.

By the time they crossed the entrance hall and spilled out onto the castle grounds, Loki’s grin was wider than Anthony thought he had ever seen it before. The sight of it sent a thrill through his nerves, and he felt giddy as he followed Loki through the crowds and toward the tree-lined arena.

Loki dropped the spell but not Anthony’s hand as they neared the entrance, but if the Ljósálfar and Vanir were curious to see a prince of Asgard among them, they did not show it. They treated Loki and Anthony as they would have over at the martial tourney, with the respect warranted by Loki’s station but none of the surprise they were no doubt feeling at the presence of Aesir.

They found seats with a good view of the arena just in time, and settled in beside each other as the first match of the day commenced.

It did not take long for Anthony to become distracted from the fight however, since despite his words the night before, the enchanted weapons being used in the ring below could not hold his attention half as well as the person sitting by his side.

Loki’s cheer was infectious, his eyes wide as he watched the spectacle, following every spark and flash of colour with unrivalled joy. What would have horrified all of Asgard had the usually so immovable Loki jumping up with the rest of the crowd, grinning through it all. Loki really, truly was enjoying the show– and maybe three centuries hence, Anthony hoped he would be able to watch Loki down there in that arena, demonstrating his skills to people who would actually appreciate their merit.

When one of the contenders split themselves into a dozen illusions, Loki turned to Anthony with half a comment spilling from his lips about how he had always wondered at the benefits of illusion in battle, and how he would be trying it in his next spar with Thor, consequences be damned—

And Anthony couldn’t help it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Loki’s smile, kissing him gently, pushing every inch of happiness he felt into it as best he could. Loki gasped at first, but then he was kissing Anthony back. It was messy and clumsy as all first kisses probably were, but it still warmed Anthony right to his toes and filled him up with so _much_ that he felt like he might burst.

Anthony’s eyes stayed closed even after they parted, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. But then he felt Loki’s fingers brush over his cheek, and he knew he had to look.

Loki was staring at him with wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe that Anthony was there. Anthony leaned into his touch and reached out to mirror the gesture, cupping Loki’s face and stroking his cheek gently.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” Loki said breathlessly.

“So have I,” Anthony agreed.

Loki grinned again at that, wide and bright, and then he wrapped his arms around Anthony’s shoulders and pressed their lips back together.

“You’re missing the match,” Anthony chuckled—

“I don’t care,” Loki replied, touching his lips to the corner of Anthony’s mouth, trying to continue the kiss. Anthony laughed again and surrendered to it, not really wanting to fight anyway. They did eventually part when someone a row behind threw a roasted nut at them, but they remained pressed together through the rest of the matches, their arms around each other and Anthony’s head resting upon Loki’s shoulder.

And after a few moments of watching the match below, Anthony glanced back up to Loki with an adoring smile.

“I’m so glad we decided to go through with this,” he said.

“As am I,” Loki whispered. “Thank you, for coming with me.”

 “You’re welcome, Loki,” Anthony replied, turning his head to dot a sweet kiss to Loki’s cheek. “Always.”


End file.
